


Take Yourself a Deep Breath

by keelywolfe



Series: Slowing Your Roll [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, Smut, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale), Violence, papcest - Freeform, possible sickness and medication
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-06-29 06:57:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15724284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: After being trapped for a week in Underswap, Edge and Red are back home. But all is not well in Underfell and Edge is living up to his name.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, now we finally get to see Underfell. I don't think I need to warn anyone that it's not a nice place but I am anyway. Things are darker on the other side. Be warned.

* * *

The false light of day was soft in the mid-morning. Snow crunched beneath Edge’s boots as he made his way to the sentry post on that bordered Waterfall. Already he could see the Dogi waiting for him, their ears perked and weapons at hand. They whined in greeting as Edge approached. 

"Report," Edge said curtly. 

"All quiet, for now, Captain," Dogamy panted and Dogaressa growled in agreement, "No sign of the XP hunters yet."

The pursuit of those nuisances was becoming a source of frustration. He'd been informed of a group of XP hunters on the outskirts of town when he had returned from Underswap. Thus far, they hadn't come too close to Snowdin proper, staying out in the scrubs to hunt the slag that lived wild in the forest and fleeing to Waterfall when any guards came close on their patrols. 

There was a discussion he needed to have with Undyne about dealing with her problems instead of letting them become Edge's but for now his attention was on finding them before a citizen let their attention lapse enough to fall into one of their traps. 

"They know our routes by now," Edge told them, "I'm changing the duty roster, we'll need to-"

His phone chimed and Edge ignored it, continuing.

"-be on our guard. I trust that you and Dogaressa can manage. I'll speak with Greater and Lesser Dog today about the changes and—"

His phone chimed again, persistently. 

Dogamy shifted on his paws, licking at his nose. "Do you need to get that?

"No," Edge said shortly. Instead, he reached into his pocket and switched it to vibrate. It wasn't as if he didn't know who was texting him and he did not have time for any nonsense right now. 

In the two weeks they had been back, Blue had been sending him his schedule daily; inviting him over for new books and puzzle ideas, sending him the occasional recipe, the texts scattered with emoticons.

The Snowdin guard had kept order better than Edge had dared hope in his absence but it had gone somewhat ragged towards the end. The dogs were competent guards but none of them were puzzle masters and they weren't able to recalibrate the puzzles with any sort of proficiency. 

It had taken him the better part of an exhausting week to get everything back into working order. Every trap on the outskirts had been sprung and it was only the wariness of the hunters and perhaps some bitter pity of the Fates that had kept the citizens safe.

That, and the simple fact that the traps closer to Snowdin were lethal and brutally efficient. Anything that made it past the capture traps was not something Edge wanted anywhere near Snowdin. Only a single one of those traps had needed recalibrating, the dust swept off into the snow. These hunters were cowards but they weren't fools, it seemed.

The Dogs all knew the routes through the traps; they went through meticulous drilling whenever Edge changed them. Except Doggo, and Sans took Doggo to his post every morning when he could and when he couldn't, Doggo remained within Snowdin, patrolling their borders. 

It was efficient and effective system, and Edge felt no small amount of pride even through his exhaustion that the Dogi had maintained it in his absence. Their loyalty had been hard won and worth all the effort it had taken when he'd first come to Snowdin.

"We'll discuss options again during the afternoon report," Edge told them and they nodded in unison, turning and running off on soundless paws. 

His phone vibrated silently and Edge sighed inwardly, pulling out his phone to check it. As he'd suspected, it was Blue, letting him know he'd be training late today but Edge was welcome to stop by at dinner, they both were. Earlier if they liked, Stretch would be home all day, alone. 

It wasn't difficult to read between the lines. Edge knew a trap when he saw one.

Irritably, Edge stuffed his phone back into his pocket without replying, long strides carrying him back to Snowdin. He wouldn't be doing any visiting while there was a threat to Snowdin hunkered down in the surrounding woods, and he wasn't planning on anything of the ilk that Blue was implying at all. 

What he should do was text Blue and order him to stop. Inform him that he was too busy for any Underswap nonsense. Monsters dusted when his attention was torn, and he did not have time for this. 

He'd started doing just that twice now in the past few days, his thumbs hesitating over the screen, words already composed in his head. Both times he'd simply thrust his phone back into his pocket, irritated with Blue and himself, admitting to himself with no small difficulty that he didn't want Blue to stop. 

He didn't even have the grace to be ashamed when he read those texts over and over, in his brief, stolen moments of rest between patrols. Studied the recipes, considered the ideas about the traps, and the single picture Blue had sent had been a selfie with his cheery grin and two fingers held out in a V, his brother grinning sleepily on the sofa behind him. Edge's lock screen on his phone was nothing more than a black background and a curt request for a password. The wallpaper when it was unlocked was that photo and even Red didn't know that.

Something bumped hard into his leg, jarring him from his thoughts, and Edge nearly stumbled. Magic flaring explosively, jagged bones rising from the snow, surrounding the source of his attack, and his automatic response froze as he glimpsed stripes.

A Monster child was lying on the snow at his feet, their eyes wide and fearful. Before Edge could dismiss the attack, another Monster had fallen to her knees in front of him, snatching the child into her arms as she blubbered out garbled apologies.

"Keep better track of your brood," Edge said through his teeth, allowing the last of the bones to fade. She nodded frantically, holding her child close as she turned and stumbled away, disappearing into a nearby house. 

Edge exhaled slowly, willing the agitated magic throbbing through him to ease. It brought him no joy to see terror in a mother's eyes but next time the child might not be so lucky. Any Monster who killed a child would be summarily executed but it wouldn’t bring a child back from the dead.

A healthy dose of fear might be enough to allow the child to survive his childhood. 

It was his own distraction that was inexcusable. The child shouldn’t have been able to get close to him without Edge seeing him, much less touch him. As he walked to the other side of town, towards the paths, he took a moment to gather his thoughts, thrusting anything useless into the back of his mind and pulling what remained into sharp focus. 

It was time for his mid-morning patrol of the traps and sentry stations; a foolish mistake in the outskirts would leave his dust to blow away in the wintry wind and the Monsters of Snowdin might not regard him fondly but he was preferable to chaos that had reigned before he’d come. These days living in Snowdin offered a cautious promise of survival rather than one of murder and Edge planned to keep it that way.

The traps closest to town were undisturbed, without a hint of dust. One of the capture traps had been sprung and sat empty. Edge took the time to recalibrate it, though it was likely a useless gesture. If they’d puzzled their way through it once then it was time to consider a replacement. Perhaps one of Blue’s designs, he—

Edge shook it away and focused on the task at hand. Tonight, he would make plans for a new trap, tonight he could allow his thoughts to wander, not here with lightly falling snow obscuring his vision and his hearing. More concerning was that this was the first time he’d found a sprung trap on this side of town since he’d returned; reports indicated the hunters were keeping to the Waterfall side of Snowdin and if they’d branched out, he’d need to double up on patrols until they were caught, one way or another. If even one of them managed to get into Snowdin, it would be catastrophic. A faint memory of the child he’d seen that morning came to him, his wide, fearful eyes. Better to be afraid than dust. 

Edge walked on, his heightened senses taking in his surroundings. He heard the fight long before he saw it. The woods surrounding Snowdin were generally quiet; Monsters rarely venturing out where it was cold and barren. When there was sound it carried far, and he could hear shouts and the hiss of magic being expelled ahead of him from the sentry station. 

_Sans._

Later, he would marvel at his own control. Yes, he’d heard the fight but before he’d even registered it, he was running towards it, magic flaring hot and his vision shifted to crimson as it filled his socket. It curdled as he reached the clearing, still thick and hot in his senses but useless. 

At his feet, pinned by his brother’s magic, was not the XP hunters but a gang of the Buns from Snowdin. 

Red was sitting on the ledge of his sentry station, his sneakered feet dangling and his socket glowing the same shade of crimson as the fingers of his left hand, the same shade that was fading from Edge’s vision.

“hey, boss,” Red called to him, casual and easy. Only Edge could see the beginnings of the strain involved in keeping so many bones conjured at once. “lookie who came to visit me on my lunch break. i’d be grateful if i wasn’t pretty sure the only thing they were planning on feeding me was my own dust.” He gave the group a wolfish grin. “sorry, boys, i’m pretty easy but i don’t put out on the first date.”

He was fine, then, although Edge couldn’t resist the urge to send a Check at him. Relief sent a wave of weakness through him, brief and vicious. Red’s HP registered at full, for him, none of these fools had gotten in a single blow --

_(It would only take one, one instant of getting lucky. One hit and...)_

\---relief faded quickly into sharp anger because this was how he was repaid for keeping Snowdin safe from hunters? These fools were barely out of stripes and Edge had heard rumors in the past, about how attacking Red had become practically a rite of passage. A simple check declared to the world how weak he was but all Edge had ever been able to confirm was rumors. Certainly no one in Snowdin was foolish enough to confess to him that they’d made an attempt on his brother’s life and asking Red to confirm the truth of it was nearly as absurd. 

This was the first time he’d seen the results; four grown Monsters making an attempt to murder Sans and for what? How much EXP could he possibly offer?

The youths of Snowdin could use a lesson to break this habit.

Snow crunched beneath his boots as he walked up to them, considering the problem with same cold clarity he used with any puzzle. Here they were, as helpless as they’d thought his brother was, and as Captain of the Snowdin guard, Edge was well within his rights to dust the four of them for attempted murder. 

Red would never judge him for his decision, one way or another. The problem with solving a conundrum like this with executions was that it didn’t solve the puzzle, it just shuffled it down the line. He was willing and able to destroy any Monsters that threatened his brother but that would be a chain with no end. Practicality demanded that he take into account that Snowdin also relied on the Buns for supplies and information; outright murdering their kin would definitely strain that alliance and no matter that he hadn’t started it.

An answer came to him and Edge nodded to himself. He looked at his brother to see how he was holding up and Red gave him a small nod; he could hold them longer.

Edge crouched down next to them companionably, taking in the baleful glares, the strength of the blue holding their souls. 

The eyes that Edge could see glaring up at him were sodium-yellow, streaked with snaps of red and tainted with fear and hatred. He studied them all, searching…there. This one was more afraid than the others; his fear would keep his cousins in line.

“I know you,” Edge told them. “I know all of you.”

“Fuck off, you cunt-sucking—"

Edge settled a hand on the back of the foul-mouthed one’s head and firmly shoved his face into the snow. He held it as he struggled, waiting until those struggles grew frantic, then slowed, weakening, before he yanked his head back up and allowed him a gurgling breath of air.

“Did you have anything else to add?” Edge asked politely. Nothing but choking gasps came and he nodded, satisfied. 

The fear in his chosen one’s eyes had increased, overshadowing their hate. Death had been an abstract to them, even pinned as they were, but now, ah, they could see their own deaths now. Perfect.

Edge leaned in closer, slipping off a glove to run a sharp fingertip down a furry cheek. Even through the thick pelt, a thin line of crimson followed it, bubbling up from the cut. “You. You have younger brothers, don’t you?”

“Please, Captain,” he burbled out, thick and gasping. Tears were starting to slide from his eyes.

“Shut up,” Edge told him brusquely. To see anyone begging for pity when they’d been on the cusp of murdering his brother for nothing more than daring to exist with low HP was obscene. “I want you to listen very carefully. If I see any of you near my brother again, if you so much as brush against him on the street, it won’t be you I kill. Do you understand?”

Wide eyes met his own, the lingering hint of child still within them was trembling and disbelieving. Edge leaned in closer, whispering so that only this one could hear him.

“Do you want to choose which one?” Edge murmured to him. “I won’t tell.”

That last bit of innocence snuffed from his eyes. He shook his head silently, tears still streaming, and Edge rocked back on his heels, standing. 

“Let them up,” he told his brother. The bones faded, their souls lost their blue cast and Edge watched them with cold wariness. Sometimes they would try again, humiliation driving them, and Edge would dust them all if he had to, alliances be damned. 

This was not one of those times. The four of them scuttled away from him and Edge caught a sharp whiff of urine. Disgusting, but a good sign, if they were frightened enough to piss themselves, the chance of them trying another attack was slim. They backed away from the sentry station, for once showing some sense. 

“Your brother will be of age next year,” Edge called after them, “If he tries his hand, it won’t be him I kill. Remember that.”

He waited until the four of them scrambled out of sight before he turned to his brother. Red hopped down from the sentry station, sauntering over to him, but there was a faint layer of sweat at his brow, shadows bruising beneath his sockets.

“We’re going home,” Edge announced. Surprise flared in Red’s eye lights, not unexpected. The day was barely half over and Edge was not one to shirk duty for any reason. 

“you wanna shortcut?” Red asked, oddly uncertain. 

“Not in the slightest,” Edge said coldly. Not only because he had no interest in a bout of nausea. The sight of the two of them alive and undamaged would send a message that it seemed some of the Monsters of Snowdin could use. 

_(Sans was too exhausted to teleport them anyway, walking would take less out of him and Edge would carry him if he thought it would be allowed, weakness be damned)_

Edge walked the path back to Snowdin, checking the traps on the way and keeping an eye out just in case any of that group took it upon themselves to find their courage. None came and Red trailed at his heels, visibly tired but only to Edge. The streets of Snowdin were empty, unusual at this time of day and a testament to the speed of gossip; none were willing to face their Captain’s wrath, not today. 

It was only when the door to their house closed behind them that Red sagged to the floor, not even kicking off his shoes as he sat in a puddle of snow-melt. He didn’t resist when Edge picked him up, didn’t protest as his brother rained Checks on him, carefully pulling off his shoes and stroking his knuckles gently over his brother’s skull.

“i’m fine,” Red said roughly, finally shoving him away. It was the end of the coddling he would allow and Edge went to the kitchen instead, yanking a container from the refrigerator and dumping it into a pan. He waited for the lasagna to heat in silence, absently taking in the faint tremor in his hands. His bones felt loosely strung, rage still flowed unchecked through him.

 _How dare they. How_ dare _they. How--_

He took the pan from the stove when soft steam rose from the noodles, dumping it on a plate and taking it to his brother. Red accepted it with a grunt, scooping up a forkful and wolfing it down, crudely wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Edge didn’t scold him. He didn’t offer a sound of disgust or protest. He stood there with his own bleak thoughts, considering the past two weeks. There were hunters somewhere in the woods with murder in their souls, hunters he’d been protecting the citizens of Snowdin from. And it was those same citizens with the same murder in their souls who had attacked his brother. That was the way of Underfell, he knew it, he’d always known it, but his anger refused to be stifled; it throbbed in his soul, aching and fierce.

He wished darkly that they’d found the hunters; he wanted dust on his hands, he wanted an outlet for his anger, he wanted…Edge stilled, his thoughts spinning to a halt. He wanted to fight or fuck, and fighting might well be off the table. But he knew Blue's schedule and knew he wouldn't be home. And that Stretch would. 

“I’m going to Underswap.” The words fell from him, thoughtlessly, but they felt right. 

Red froze, a forkful of lasagna an inch from his mouth. He let it fall back to the plate and gave Edge a shrewd look, too knowing by far. "you sure that's a good idea, boss?"

_(It’s not, he knows it’s not, he can feel the thrum of anger in his marrow)_

But he wanted to fuck and Stretch was likely a safe bet.

"Mind your own business," Edge ground out. His vision reddened and he closed his sockets, struggling for control. When he opened them, Red was holding up his hands defensively. 

"i am…i do…but you're kinda riled up. you're not gonna be happy with yourself tomorrow if you hurt him."

Edge snarled wordlessly at him and Red didn't budge, didn’t look away, because of course the moment he'd want to leave his apathy behind would be now. He snarled out, "I'm not going to hurt him!”

Red still looked doubtful.

"Hurting him would likely kill him," Edge said shortly. "I sincerely doubt Blue would forgive me for murdering his brother."

"don't have to be that gentle," Red snorted. "his hp is the same as mine. he can stand it a little rough, boss. just remember, you can only fuck someone to dust once."

"Thank you for that visual," Edge snapped, but it did work. Some of his anger had cooled, the redness leaching from his vision. But the urge hadn’t left him, the stresses of the past two weeks weighing on his very nerves, and this time, Red said nothing as Edge turned on his heel and walked out the door, skirting the house as he made his way to the basement and the machine. 

It was mid-morning and Blue wouldn’t be home until late. Stretch was home alone, pretty, prickly Stretch, perhaps sleeping, warm and soft. And willing, always willing.

Edge ground his teeth as he stormed down the basement steps. The machine took long minutes to warm up and he waited, tasting the heat of his own magic in the back of his throat. 

For once, he hoped his brother was right. Gentle was not going to be a possibility. 

Rough, only a little rough, seemed more manageable. Now all he needed was willing and if he believed Blue’s texts, that was not going to be a problem. 

The soft electric hum of the machine rose to a faint whine as the portal opened and Edge stepped through it to Underswap. It closed behind him and left the basement empty and silent, blameless.

* * *

Outside, doors began to open as word came around that the Captain had gone to his house and not come back out. The citizens of Underfell’s Snowdin took up their day again, making their way to the shops and errands, wary, but content in their safety. For now. 

Loud shouting rose at the Bun household that was ignored by passersby, though they might cross to the other side of the street and if the younger Buns were subdued and sporting a few bruises later, none commented on it. 

The prevailing opinion was that they’d gotten what they deserved. 

 

~tbc~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any of you concerned that this may stray into non-con territory, please have no fear. I have no interest in that and Edge is perfectly capable of taking no for an answer.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

From the moment Edge stepped through the door, it was apparent he was in a different ‘verse. Underswap simply felt different than Underfell. A little brighter, the snow a little whiter; it was Underfell tipped slightly to the left and wrong. 

No, he was the wrong one, he didn’t belong here. They never had, every time he and Red came here it was simply to take something that shouldn’t have been theirs to begin with. Including this time. 

The world in his vision tinted crimson, his magic surging eagerly, ready to be used, to defend, to _maim_ and—

_(you can only fuck someone to dust once—)_

Edge paused, ankle-deep in snow, closing his sockets and he took a deep breath of crisp, cold air, let it out slowly. He didn’t know how long he stood there, focused on nothing more complicated than breathing but when he opened them again, the world looked as it should, some of his rage subsiding. 

It wasn’t his intent to hurt Stretch and intent was the most important aspect, true, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t. If he was careless. If he didn’t keep control.

Familiar Gyftmas lights twinkled on the eves even in broad daylight and Edge took a moment to kick the worst of the snow from his boots before rapping sharply on the door. Long moments passed as he waited; there was a fair chance that Stretch had been asleep and was taking his time shuffling to the door. He’d just begun to contemplate knocking again when the door opened with a faint creak. 

It had been two weeks since he’d seen Stretch and somehow in that brief time, he’d managed to forget just how fucking _pretty_ Stretch was. All his attention had been on grimly stitching the rips in Snowdin’s defenses back together, to keeping the citizens as safe as was possible, and he’d pushed aside any memories of Underswap as a weakness, hadn’t allowed himself a single thought of Stretch’s teasing smirks, his warmth, the sounds he made as he came. 

To see him now, the way he cocked his hips as he leaned against the doorframe, his sweatshirt riding up to reveal the white curve of an iliac arch. His expression was sleepily warm and there was soft confusion on that pretty face as he blinked at Edge. Bare feet pearly-white against the carpet, the delicate, unmarred bones of his fingers curled around the door…beautiful, he was so damned beautiful and when red sheened Edge’s vision again, it had nothing to do with rage, nothing at all. 

“edge?” Stretch asked in that husky, whiskey-sweet voice of his, “hey, what’s up…hey!”

Stretch yelped in surprise as Edge pushed him roughly backwards, kicking the door shut behind him. He stumbled as Edge took hold of his shoulders and walked him back until he hit the wall with enough force to rattle the picture frames, his sockets wide and startled. 

_(But not afraid, never afraid, foolishly so, but Stretch was never afraid of him, never)_

His laughter was too soft, too gentle for the emotions flooding Edge, his smirk teasing, scraping raw over him, “okay, so, this is a thing now. think you can come over and push me around any time you want, lover?”

Edge growled wordlessly, had no idea of his expression, of what Stretch saw when he looked at him. Whatever it was, it shouldn’t have made him soften, shouldn’t have made him sag further into the wall, tipping his chin up in something like submission. “yeah, okay, give it to me, control issues. if you want a yes, you’ve got one.”

_Yes._

Their teeth clacked painfully as Edge pressed them together, shoved his tongue between Stretch’s parted teeth to tangle with his. The sweetly-sour taste of Stretch’s magic made him groan, laced faintly with honey and it made him push in harder. Stretch whimpered but didn’t pull away, let Edge take what he wanted.

Slim hands caught at his shoulders and Edge grabbed them by the wrists, forced them back against the wall. He felt Stretch wince into their kiss and gentled his grip unthinkingly, only to have Stretch nearly twist free, quick and unexpected. He snarled, slamming their joined hands back against the wall and pulled back to glare at Stretch. 

Who only smiled sweetly, running his tongue over the line of his teeth as he waggled the fingers of his trapped hands against the wall. “problem?”

“Don’t fight,” Edge gritted out. He shifted, putting more of his weight on his hands. 

Stretch only laughed, soft and mocking, “yeah, good luck with that, control issues.”

For a moment, he pushed back, straining against Edge’s grip, but his leverage was poor, physics working against him. By the time he gave up, relaxing back into the wall, they were both breathing hard, pressed together from chest to pelvis. Edge could feel the heat of magic rising between them and pushed a knee between Stretch’s legs to rub the hard line of his femur against his pubic symphysis. Even through two layers of fabric he could feel the sudden surge of heat, magic firming beneath, and Stretch made a low, frantic sound, arching up, riding against Edge’s thigh. 

A shimmer of sweat was rising on Stretch’s skull, sockets half-closed and his teeth parted, his wrists falling lax in Edge’s grip. It looked something like surrender and it made him impossibly more beautiful. Edge licked his own teeth, considering, noticing with dark amusement the way Stretch’s eye lights following the movement of his tongue. 

In a quick, decisive move, Edge let go of his wrists and stooped to catch Stretch behind the knees, hitching him up against the wall with enough force to knock the breath from him.

“fuck!” Stretch wheezed, scrabbling to grab at Edge’s shoulders and this time, he allowed it, grinding against him while blunted fingertips dug almost painfully into Edge's shoulder blades.

Precious moans spilling out between them as Edge rocked against him, sharing desperate kisses, and Edge’s thoughts were searing. The temptation was there to tear his clothes away, fuck him against the wall with the ragged shreds still clinging to him and listen to him beg, because he would, Edge knew he would, pleading in his smoky voice for more, for harder, breathing Edge’s name against him and letting Edge have him. Pretty, prickly…beautiful Stretch, willing and wanting. 

A last fiery kiss and Edge shifted to put his thoughts to action. Pulled back to look at Stretch and in one brief instant, all the heat of his desire turned to cold ashes. 

A crimson line of marrow was running from his Stretch’s nasal aperture, thin as a thread. The color of it was nothing at all like Edge’s magic, unmistakable; marrow was stark and opaque, vivid against the whiteness of bone.

He…he couldn’t have hurt him, he hadn’t pushed Stretch that hard, he hadn’t been _that_ rough…had he?

_(Sans had warned him and he hadn’t listened, he never listened, not in years, Sans was no one’s conscience and yet--)_

Carefully, Edge lowered him back to the ground, as gently as his trembling hands could manage. Stretch blinked at him in confusion and didn’t let him go, staggering a little as he got his feet back under him.

“what? what’s wrong?” he asked, his brow bone knit with bewilderment. That tiny stream of marrow thickened, the droplet oozing downward and leaving a trail of ugly redness. 

Edge took a careful step back until they were no longer touching, and that confusion deepened, “wha…are you okay?”

Hesitantly, Edge reached out with a gloved hand, gingerly as if he might cause him more damage. He touched that crimson line, smearing it and held up his red-slickened fingers. Immediately, Stretch pressed a hand against his nasal aperture, trying to stem the flow.

“shit,” he mumbled, blurred through his hand, irritated but not surprised. As if it were expected.

Edge frowned, sockets narrowing, and it was automatic to check him:

_Papyrus_  
_1 ATK_  
_1 DEF_  
_3.75 HP_

__

__

_forgot to take his meds this morning_

"Meds?" Edge demanded. "What medication do you take?"

"what?" Stretch blinked at him, surprise shifting to honest fury, orange magic snapping vividly in his socket; he’d never actually seen Stretch so angry, an uncomfortable contrast with the marrow staining him. "did you just _check_ me?"

He didn’t blame Stretch for his anger; checking someone outside of battle was incredibly invasive. Red allowed it because Edge didn’t give him a choice and over the years he’d gotten over his resentment…mostly. But he wasn’t going to apologize, not while he was literally watching Stretch’s HP drain away. Another decimal point ticked downward before he let the check fade.

“Your HP is down,” Edge countered, unwilling to argue when a fresh rill of marrow was spilling down his maxilla. “Now what medication do you need?”

For a moment, Edge thought Stretch was going to tell him to fuck off and he wasn’t sure what he’d do then because he couldn’t leave Blue’s brother like this, couldn’t leave Stretch like this, bleeding and alone. His anger was dulled but other emotions, too bitter to name, were still far too close to the surface. He…he couldn’t…

A beat passed, two, Stretch glowering at him, and the angry spark of his magic faded. Stretch sagged against the wall, pressing the sleeve of his hoodie against his nasal aperture and finally said, grudgingly, “up in my room, in my desk.”

Edge nodded and did not ask before scooped Stretch up and carrying him to the sofa. He gave a startled yelp, flailed briefly, then sighed and let him. “okay, control issues, you do you.”

It only took him a moment to settle Stretch on the cushions, ignoring his resentful glare. Edge took the stairs two at a time, opening Stretch’s door to find his room almost unchanged from when they’d left. There were a few socks scattering the floor, but it had yet to return to its previous levels of filth and chaos. A quick rummage through his desk turned up a small and surprisingly heavy bottle of brown glass, unlabeled and filled with tiny, round pills.

Edge shook it, frowning at the unfamiliar tablets. But then, he couldn’t claim to be any sort of healer nor a scientist. He made a mental note of their appearance, intending to ask Sans when he returned to Underfell, and took the bottle downstairs to where Stretch was waiting impatiently. 

“thanks,” he mumbled. He shook out two and dry swallowed them, leaning back against the sofa arm with his sockets closed, still staunching the trickle of marrow with his sleeve. Silently, Edge retrieved a clean cloth from his inventory, pressing it to the back of Stretch’s hand. He flinched, sockets flying open. His eye lights seemed hazy, unfocused, but they sharpened as he blinked at the handkerchief. He took it wordlessly, replacing his stained sleeve.

Edge said nothing, only crossed his arms over his chest and waited, watching as crimson crept across previously white linen. It stopped quickly enough, Stretch wiping away the last of it with the folded cloth. There was still a smear on the rim of his nasal aperture and Stretch didn’t resist when Edge took the cloth away and carefully cleaned away that last ugly smudge.

The silence drew out between them uncomfortably and Edge was unsurprised when Stretch finally sighed and gave in, breaking it, “they help regulate my magic, all right? i have too much for my body to handle and before you ask, yes, blue knows. it’s not exactly a secret.”

“Red doesn’t have that issue.” Did he? Edge abruptly wasn't certain, and it left him with two sources of worry that he couldn't do a thing about.

Stretch rolled his eye lights. “well, congrats, you figured out that the universes have differences. you’ll be ready for finals in no time.”

“Why would it be different?”

“who the hell knows?” Stretch said irritably, “a moldsmal shakes its ass in one ‘verse and starts a storm over in waterfall. it just is, okay?”

Differences in the ‘verses. It took him back to a memory of this morning, the casual way Red held down four adult monsters with both bones and blue magic, and only just breaking a sweat. “Red uses his magic more than you do,” Edge murmured.

Stretch raised a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “i guess that could do it, yeah.”

“Then you need to start using it more.”

That earned him a smirk and Stretch shook his head. “no offense, lover, but if i won’t do it for my brother, you’re deluded to think i’d do it for you.”

It was the truth but it didn’t mean Edge had to like it. “You’re supposed to do it for you.”

“aww, senpai noticed me. and which self-help book did you dig that out of?” Stretch snorted, then winced, pressing a hand to his sinuses. “personally, i liked ‘the road less traveled’ but it came off as a little preachy.” 

Edge ground his teeth. How was it that Stretch managed to be even more of an irritant than Red? There was only a narrow bit of cushion next to Stretch on the sofa and Edge sat anyway, catching Stretch by his shoulders and pulling him forcefully into his arms, ignoring his protesting squawk. 

Muffled into his shirt, “what are you doing?”

“Shut up.” Stretch was solid in his arms, close enough that Edge could feel the warmth of his magic. He was here. His own brother would never have allowed this and Edge wasn't about to give Stretch the choice. 

He didn’t struggle, only held himself stiffly in Edge’s embrace. Edge didn’t care, he didn’t let go and with glacial slowness, Stretch relaxed against him, a certain wariness lingering as he leaned ever so slightly into Edge arms. It made Edge smile to himself, a touch bitterly and hidden into Stretch’s marrow-stained sweatshirt. Of course Stretch wasn’t afraid of him when it came to anything physical; it was an emotional reaction that left him cold and unwilling. 

How very _Sans_ of him. 

Stretch allowed it for longer than Edge would have guessed before he finally squirmed free. But not away, he only pulled his stained sweatshirt over his head, tossing it carelessly to the floor. It left him in a clinging black tank top, the curve of his clavicles visible over the neckline. 

Magic filled his mouth, thick and heady, and Edge swallowed it away. Pretty as Stretch was, he didn’t dress in a way that emphasized it. This, though…“You should soak that or it will stain.”

“you didn’t come here to give me laundry tips, lover,” Stretch smirked. He leaned back against the sofa arm, his legs shifting apart. “ready when you are.”

“Are you serious?” Edge said, a touch disbelieving, and that easy seduction faded. Stretch looked away from him, and Edge caught a glimpse of something that he couldn’t name before his expression closed, offering him nothing. 

“yeah, okay,” he rubbed between his sockets with the tips of his fingers, “look, i’m fine. you don’t have to stay and babysit.”

“You want me to leave?” Edge raised his own brow bone. “Why?” 

“because no one puts spontaneous bleeding on their online dating profile,” Stretch sighed. 

“You’re sick, that’s hardly your fault—” Edge didn’t finish. Stretch’s blank expression cracked, his eye lights flashing orange. 

“fuck you,” Stretch said, low, “i’m not _sick_. i have one small issue that is easily managed with medication when i’m not too fucking stupid to take it. i don’t need your pity.”

Such an interest contrast in universes, because a moment ago, Stretch was purely Sans and here was the Papyrus in him, all pride and indignation. That, at least, Edge knew how to deal with. With deliberate mildness, Edge said, “Good, because I’m not offering you any.”

The jeans that Stretch was wearing were too large, an impressive find considering how tall he was, and they were rolled up, showing off the shapely lines of his ankles. Edge wrapped a hand around one of them, watched as the touch crackled in Stretch’s eye lights, and then pulled, yanking him flat on the sofa.

He didn’t give Stretch a chance to protest, shifted to straddle his hips and smirked down at him. Rocking their pelvises together pulled a soft, startled noise from Stretch. Silkily, Edge asked him, “Does this feel like pity?”

Edge leaned down, wanting to taste the delicate curves of his clavicle and Stretch pushed him back with both hands, gasping out, “wait.”

He leaned against the pressure of Stretch’s palms, frowning, “Your mouth says yes yes yes and then no no no. Would you like a moment to consult the voices in your head to see if you can come to a consensus?”

“nah, it’s yes yes yes, but not here here here. upstairs, lover, i don’t want to hear blue bitching about us fucking on the sofa again.”

“We weren’t fucking on the sofa,” Edge pointed out. Not yet, anyway.

“nope, we weren’t, and also, we aren’t gonna. blue would be justifiably pissed and he’s already implied that his revenge would be making sure i caught him fucking his boyfriend and that is a level of no that can’t be expressed in words,” Stretch shuddered.

There was a lot going on in that statement, most of which Edge didn’t understand, but he caught the basics of it. Edge shifted to his feet, made a move to pick Stretch up and Stretch skittered back so quickly he actually flickered, almost shortcutting the distance. “no, no, and no, you aren’t carrying me anywhere, you asshole. i had a nosebleed, i didn’t break a fucking leg.”

“Who said I was carrying you because of that?”

“no one, but i say you’re not carrying me because of anything. i’m walking, thanks.”

“You lost an entire HP,” Edge countered.

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered. He spread out his arms, dramatically, “check me, all right? i’m fine.”

Hardly the most gracious of invitations but Edge took it regardless. 

_Papyrus_  
_1 ATK_  
_1 DEF_  
_4.37 HP_

_the easiest enemy, can only do 1 damage_

Which was proof that the information a check provided was more literal than true. His brother’s often said the same and Edge knew exactly how much damage his brother could do. While Edge was looking, his HP ticked up another decimal point.  
“happy?”

“I’m never happy,” Edge told him, deadpan.

“i’m calling bullshit on that,” Stretch smirked. “give me fifteen minutes, and you’ll be singing a different tune, lover.”

“I wouldn’t bet money on it.” But he let Stretch walk up the stairs, following him up and taking advantage of the moment to watch the sway of his pelvis in those jeans. Edge couldn’t carry a tune in a fleet of buckets, but knowing Stretch, he might be willing to hum.

-tbc-


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

The bed in Stretch’s room was unmade, the sheets rumpled but clean. Edge took a moment to close the door and lock it, a habit from Underfell that he had no interest in breaking despite the way Stretch rolled his eyes.

“who do you think is going to wander in, control issues?” Stretch smirked at him.

“I’m sure I don’t know, but I don’t need the distraction,” Edge told him, crossing his arms over his chest. “I think you’ve made me wait long enough.” More than long enough, all the stress of the day was a hot ball of tension in his soul and he was more than looking forward to setting it loose. Gentler than he’d previously intended and yet, Edge couldn’t say he minded. 

“yeah, yeah, game, set, match, you win.” Despite his snark, Stretch wasted no time pulling his tank top over his head and tossing it aside. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and skimmed them down, leaving him entirely bare. It made Edge catch his breath; somehow in two short weeks he’d forgotten how utterly gorgeous Stretch was, all the slender length of his pearly bones, the soft orange of his magic swirling in his pelvis, unformed as of yet but definitely interested. 

Sunlight was streaming in through the window, illuminating the small room. He’d never seen Stretch like this in the light of day and he might have spent an unseemly amount of time staring because Stretch’s expression hinted at amusement. 

“how about a little group participation?” Stretch asked. He moved to sprawl out on the bed, his hands behind his head as he gave Edge a challenging look.

It was a fair request. He took more care than Stretch, folding each item of clothing as he stripped it off, setting his uniform neatly on the desk. As many times as they’d fucked the last time he was here, he had never been naked with Stretch before. His own bones were crisscrossed with scars, old injuries, notched by blades and bite marks. He wasn’t pretty like Stretch, but his searching eye lights told Edge that the view was not unappreciated.

Whatever pretense of aloofness Stretch had been trying to convey was abandoned in an instant, his magic solidifying at his pelvis, his cock already eagerly hard. The sight made Edge’s mouth water and he moved to crawl up the length of the bed, wanting to taste Stretch’s mouth before the rest of him.

The startled sound that Stretch made gave him pause and he looked up at eye lights blown wide in arousal and shock. 

“oh, i…uh…i just assumed you didn’t…”

What the…oh. In his eagerness, he hadn’t shifted Stretch’s legs to settle between them, he’d straddled him instead and their pelvises were aligned, the length of Stretch’s cock between them. His own magic had still been sitting heavily in the cradle of his hips, unformed, but it seemed to take his stray thoughts as intentions and settled into the soft folds of a cunt, already gleaming damply.

That…hadn’t actually been his intent, he’d never felt the urge to be the receptive partner, not with either of those he’d bedded previously. His first partner had wanted his protection as much as his affection and his second—neither one would he have done this with. 

But he could with Stretch, he realized. They mocked each other often but he wouldn’t use it against him, not to dominate or abuse. This wasn’t Underfell and if this was something that was wanted, he simply could, without expectations. 

The sudden heat in the bones beneath his own told him the idea certainly appealed to Stretch.

"Do you want to?" Edge countered.

"fuck yes," Stretch breathed. He started to settle his hands lightly at Edge’s hips, only jerking slightly when Edge caught him by the wrists. It took very little force to guide his hands over his head, pressing them against the pillows.

“Keep your hands there,” Edge warned and Stretch nodded dumbly, as though the mere thought of getting to fuck him had shorted out what little sense he possessed. 

It made it that much easier to steal the kiss that he’d been chasing before, Stretch’s tongue coming alive immediately against his own. His fingers were clicking agitatedly above their heads as he clenched and unclenched his hands. 

Edge kept their mouths together as he cautiously slipped a hand between his legs, pressing a single finger inside. It was drier than he’d expected, none of the eager slickness that Stretch’s always greeted him with, and the pressure was almost enough to make him wince. He’d never actually done this from the other side, not even by himself.

He pulled away from the kiss, keeping his discomfort from showing on his face as he worked his finger inside until it moved with relative ease. Two fingers felt oddly invasive and it seemed to take forever for them to move easier, slickness forming reluctantly. A third finger breeched the barrier to actual pain and he couldn’t quite stifle a sound of discomfort. Stretch seemed to mistake it for eagerness and his eye lights were hot, avid as he watched the inward slide of his fingers, the bones barely tinted a slick crimson.

It would have to be enough. Edge slid back until Stretch’s cock grazed him, rubbing the slick tip against his entrance, wetter in his eagerness than Edge was. He held it steady with two fingers and sank down, struggling to relax and allow entry. It felt like too much, stretching him uncomfortably, and a low whine rose in his throat. He couldn’t quite take the last inch, it felt like it simply would not fit no matter how much he squirmed, trying to force his body to accept it.

"easy," Stretch breathed. His hands were clenched together over his head, trembling. "fuck, you're tight. been awhile?"

"It's been never, so yes,” Edge gritted out. He could almost…he could fucking do this, others did this all the fucking time, Stretch did this and loved it, he could--

The haziness of Stretch’s eye lights went abruptly sharp. "are you fucking serious?"

“Yes!” he snapped. If only Stretch would stop talking he might be able to breathe his way through this, he could, damn it, it was made for this, why was it being so difficult? Discomfort was starting to overshadow his desire and his cunt spasmed as he shifted, trying to find if not pleasure then at least relief.

Stretch exhaled shakily. “okay, stop, stop.”

The mortification was staggering but he couldn’t help a soft moan of relief as he pulled off. His cunt ached unpleasantly and worse, his arousal hadn’t abated, a throbbing need that was promising to be unsatisfied. 

Miserably, he started to stand. “I should go.” Back to Underfell to nurse the humiliation he could feel crawling up his spine, how was it possible he couldn’t manage something as simple as allowing someone to fuck him?

“woah, hang on, don't be like that,” Stretch said, coaxingly, “hey, it’s all right. c’mere, yeah? let me help.”

Edge stared down at him, confused. He’d left his hands where they were, over his head and crossed at the wrist, but Stretch gave him a sly look, touched the tip of his tongue lightly against his teeth. 

“c'mon, trust me?” he wheedled.

Warily, he crawled up the bed, a hot flush rising in his cheeks as Stretch nudged him higher, until he was straddling his shoulders. It left his cunt poised directly over Stretch’s mouth, embarrassingly exposed. 

“that’ll work,” Stretch gave him a wink and before Edge could do more than glare at him for his cheek, he lifted his head and dragged his tongue up the slit in a long, wet lick that ended at his clit. 

“Oh, fuck,” Edge rasped out, hardly aware of even speaking. Every hot lap of Stretch’s tongue forced another sound out of him, until Edge was trying not to push down against his face. His tongue was as clever as the rest of him, moving in a slippery rhythm that Edge would almost be able to follow and then it would change, writhing in tender persuasion. He could feel the vibrations of Stretch’s soft, eager groans, like this was something he wanted, the delicate gusts of his breath as his tongue delved into him as if he couldn’t get enough.

Panting, Edge dug his sharpened fingers into the mattress, felt them piecing through the material as another slippery tease skirted his clit. Oh, that was, oh, and he could feel his cunt spasming as if was trying to hold on to that feeling, begging silently. 

His tongue circled with delicate skill, knowingly easing off when Edge shivered helplessly. Stretch’s aptitude spoke of a great deal of experience, cunnilingus hardly being a born talent and Edge had to stifle a pinprick of jealousy at the thought. He had no right to it, they didn’t even have a name for what was between them, much less promises.

Just when he felt that peak starting to threaten, tremblingly close, Stretch drew away, panting, his face glistening with smeared fluids. “okay," he gasped, “now give it a try.”

Clumsily, Edge crawled back down, his fingers quivering with eagerness as he lined up Stretch’s cock again and slid down. There was a faint, lingering soreness, but this time that fullness inside him felt _good_ , felt like it was filling an emptiness that he hadn’t realized existed. 

“Ohhhh,” Edge groaned shakily. Unthinkingly, he spread his knees wider, trying to take it a little deeper, a little more.

“yeah, that’s it, that’s perfect,” Stretch whimpered. He arched up as much as he could, his heels digging into the mattress, only for Edge to shove him back down, his hips moving roughly, riding him with cautious eagerness. Even the movements were different from being the penetrating partner and it took him a moment to find a rhythm that worked. 

Stretch only moaned appreciatively, struggling against Edge’s pinning weight as though unable to help himself. “yeah, that's it, baby, take what you need, take it.”

He tried, not quite confident, but with every movement it grew easier. Rising up and dropping down, feeling the taunting emptiness of withdrawal followed by the satisfaction of being filled, again and again. It wasn’t enough, he felt like he was teetering on the cusp of orgasm and couldn’t quite tip over.

Some of his frustration must have shown on his face. “it's hard to come from just this,” Stretch panted. “touch your clit. c’mon, let me see it.”

Hesitantly, Edge fumbled between his legs and pressed his fingertips against the hard little nub. It didn’t feel as good as he expected, it felt _overwhelming_ , like too much, and he whimpered, frustrated and needing it, he _needed_. 

“I can’t,” he gasped, straining for it, he was _so close_.

“okay, okay, let me? come on, baby, let me help you,” Stretch crooned. He was trembling, flushed and lovely, his hands twitched eagerly where they lay against the pillows, and he was asking permission, he was being so beautifully obedient and—

“Please,” Edge managed to rasp out and that seemed to be all the confirmation Stretch required. One of his hands dropped down to slip between them, his fingertips grazing where they were joined, suddenly that pressure was right where Edge needed it, his thumb pressing, circling. 

It was different than coming with his cock, the hot intensity of climax was more overwhelming, less a focal point and more encompassing, and drenching wetness soaked his cunt as he came, leaving him slippery and open for the sudden desperate drive of Stretch inside him. Distantly, he could hear Stretch groaning beneath him, the sudden rush of wet heat splashing inside him was soothing, a confirmation that their pleasure had been shared. 

Weakly, he sagged down on Stretch, trying to catch his breath. Stretch was still inside him, softening, their mixed fluids trailing down his femurs and the feeling made him grimace, shifting back until his cock slipped out. Now he was uncomfortably sore and while he couldn’t do much about the mess, he could change that. With a little concentration, he dissipated his cunt, leaving him with nothing but drying remnants of spent magic and a pleasant afterglow. 

Hands caught his arms gently and a little reluctantly, Edge allowed Stretch to draw him down, settling against him with his head resting on Stretch’s ribcage. One of those hands shifted to his spine, stroking gently while the other held his hand, his thumb moving in light circles against sensitive bones. 

“next time, warn me if you want to try something new,” Stretch sighed. “i’m here to help.”

Edge only hummed in vague agreement. Beneath his cheekbone, he could feel the soft warmth of Stretch’s soul, the gentle pulse of it. It wasn’t visible, concealed until manifested, but he could still sense it, imagine its delicate purity. He’d never seen a soul outside of battle and then they were flushed with intent and hatred. Almost guiltily, he wondered what Stretch’s would look like right now, would it match his magic, glistening orange, would it be silvery in innocence, lacking LV, would it be—

“it’s okay if it wasn’t to your tastes, you know,” Stretch went on, unaware of the near-perversion of his thoughts, “not everyone likes to bottom.”

“I am aware of that, it wasn’t…terrible,” Edge said grudgingly. 

“wow, awesome,” Stretch said wryly. “glad you survived. maybe next time I can play cowboy, huh? pin you down for a change?”

“You’re welcome to try.”

That earned him a soft huff of laughter, Stretch’s ribcage rising and falling beneath him. “so, what made you want to stop by, anyway? i’m flattered and all, but i don’t really believe you woke up this morning and decided it was a good day for a little bone and groan.”

“Someone tried to kill my brother,” Edge admitted. He waited stiffly for questions, likely for Stretch to ask if he’d killed them, waiting for the _judgement_ , but he didn’t. Only kept petting him gently, his fingertips soothing along the intricate angles of his spine. “Well?”

“well what?” Stretch mumbled sleepily, “am i supposed to be surprised something terrible happened in underfell?”

“That’s not the reaction I expected based on yours when we first met.”

His words had the unintended effect of Stretch finally shifting away from him and his familiar grin was bittersweet. “oh, i’m sorry, was i supposed to be happy that a murderous dickbag with my name and face suddenly wanted to be best buddies with my bro? sorry i didn’t throw down the rose petals for you.” He shook his head and pulled away completely, reaching for his pants. Instead of putting them on, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, walking over to the window to slide it open even as he lit it. “you have lv and exp and still managed to be a better version of me for him. excuse me for being jealous.”

He hadn’t thought of it that way, so greedily eager to be friends with Blue, so concerned about hurting Red. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Stretch would see him as a threat to his own relationship with Blue. The two of them were so close, it seemed impossible that Stretch could doubt. 

Despite their physical closeness only minutes before, Edge hesitated, considering, then walked over to Stretch. His pelvis was a mess of drying magic, spatters of orange and red, and Edge chose to slide an arm around him, pulling him back against him. Briefly, Stretch stiffened, wavering towards struggling, then he relaxed, leaning back against Edge. 

“I sincerely doubt your brother would agree,” Edge murmured quietly. 

“uh huh." He didn't sound convinced. He took another agitated puff from his cigarette, his teeth digging in to the delicate filter. "you know, i’m a little surprised you came here instead of keeping an eye on your bro, but not much. i’m pretty good for a memory blocker if i do say so myself.”

“Don’t.” Edge said sharply.

“what?” Startled, Stretch tried to look at him, but Edge refused to let go at first. 

“If I can’t call you a whore then you aren’t allowed to do it yourself.”

“i wasn’t...”

Edge released him, leaning back to glare at him and Stretch held up a hand in surrender, flicking ash from his cigarette out the window with the other. “okay, okay, control issues.”

Good enough. He kept one arm around Stretch, holding him with a splayed hand over his ribcage, and leaned back a little to admire the smooth, sleek lines of his spine, the broad planes of his scapula. Stretch was pretty, no question…

“your fifteen minutes of staring time are up,” Stretch told him, and Edge sighed, reluctantly amused. Pretty and prickly, always. 

“Hold on, I’ve only got twenty-five cents for the meter.”

It startled a laugh from Stretch. He dug out another cigarette and lit it, “you staying for dinner?”

“Tempting, but I can’t.” He’d already been away for too long. He needed to get home and deal with the recalcitrant members of the Snowdin community along with the XP hunters. 

“okay,” Stretch said agreeably. “don’t wait for a near murder next time, lover.”

“Perhaps,” Edge replied and stepped away. Blue wouldn’t be home for some time yet and he took advantage of that to walk to the bathroom without his clothes, washing with quick efficiency. By the time he came back with a wet cloth, Stretch was already back in bed, the blankets pulled haphazardly over him. 

“You’re making an unnecessary mess,” Edge told him exasperatedly, tugging down the blankets despite sleepy protests. They quickly turned to groans of appreciation as Edge gently cleaned away the drying magic at his pelvis with the warm, wet cloth, until the bone was its normal pearly hue.

“well, the royal treatment today,” Stretch grumbled. He let his knees fall open and already a faint orange glow was rising at his pubic symphysis that Edge ignored. 

“Much as I’d like to think this helped, you should consider using a little extra magic,” Edge said quietly. Beneath his hands, Stretch stiffened and Edge ignored it, wiping down his femurs. “Teleport around more, you hate walking as it is. Take a trip to New Home—"

“i don’t go to new home.” Sharply, hinting that he was far more awake than he was letting on. 

Well. There was a sore spot. Edge resisted the urge to press at it; now was not the time. “Waterfall, then.”

“eh. maybe.” Stretch said disinterestedly.

Edge sighed inwardly and offered, grudgingly, “If it would increase your amusement, take me with you.”

“what?” Stretch blinked up at him. “you hate teleporting.”

“Would that increase your chances of doing it?”

“no!” Stretch snapped, “making you sick isn’t funny, i—” He gave Edge a narrow look “you’re really worried, aren’t you? okay. come back later this week and take a walk with me, then.”

That was…unexpected.

“A walk,” Edge deadpanned and Stretch quirked a smile up at him. 

“if our first walk together taught me anything, it’s that i have to teleport after you the whole time.”

“Very well,” Edge agreed. Carefully, he rubbed away the last smear of magic from Stretch’s femur, and found his hand caught in Stretch’s, drawn up to where his magic was starting to swirl again, warming eagerly. 

“you could always help me work off a little more magic right now,” he teased. Against his hand, that diffuse warmth curled gently, enticingly. 

He couldn’t. He needed to get home, he needed to meet with the Dogi, address the issue with the XP hunters, he needed to check on Red—

“I could,” Edge pushed Stretch down, ignoring his gleeful smile as he settled between his legs. 

He could stay a little longer. 

tbc


End file.
